Apples and Oranges
by Porthos1013
Summary: Pointless banter between the boys. McKay’s snarky, Sheppard’s annoying him, and there’s a brief food fight, in the loosest sense of the word.


Author: Porthos

Spoilers: None, unless you didn't know that Sheppard got promoted to Colonel…oops

Summary: Pointless banter between the boys. McKay's snarky, Sheppard's annoying him, and there's a brief food fight, in the loosest sense of the word.

Author's notes: This was inspired by a fic that for the life of me, I can't remember. Something about McKay having an aversion to all fruit by association, or something like that. I just read it tonight, and now I can't find it! If this is your story, let me know, and I'll credit you. Also, this is unbeta'd so any mistakes are completely my own, and I apologize profusely. McKay would accept nothing less than perfection, but sadly I'm not of the same caliber as that demi-god among men. ;)

oOo

Sheppard walked into the lab and tossed the apple at McKay, who emitted a small yelp of surprise but easily caught it. "There you go, fresh from the Daedalus' last shipment. I still don't understand why you like those things."

McKay looked affronted. "Honestly, Colonel, sometimes I wonder how you were ever allowed to take the Mensa test. Your idea of a healthy snack is probably sticking a twig into a termite nest and licking off the insects that attach to it." Sheppard screwed up his face in disgust, as much for that mental image as for the fact that McKay had just taken a bite of the offending fruit. "Haven't you ever heard the old saying 'an apple a day keeps the doctor away?'"

"So…What? This is a homeopathic aversion to Beckett? C'mon, Rodney, I know the kiss was bad, but—"

McKay pinched the bridge of his nose. "As soon as I find that tape, I'm killing Zelenka," he mumbled to himself. Sheppard just smiled innocently. "The thing about apples," Rodney continued as if lecturing a stubbornly moronic child, "is that they're an excellent source of nutrition. My powerbars are good meal substitutes, too, but one needs a little variety. Apples contain enough carbohydrates and vitamins to keep me at my current astounding level of productivity, so it wouldn't be too much to ask that you keep your uninformed opinions of dietary sustenance to yourself," he finished curtly, then took another bite of his apple. "Besides, they help keep me from going into hypoglycemic shock," he finished around a mouthful of the fruit.

Sheppard cringed. "Yuck. McKay, apples are like eating sugary paper pulp. How can you stand it?"

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. You don't like apples, I get it. Now please shut up so I can get back to work." Sheppard shrugged his assent, and McKay returned to typing away at his laptop, stopping only occasionally to take a bite of his apple. In the silence that followed, Sheppard grabbed a pencil and began aimlessly tapping it lightly on the lab table. After a few seconds, he began tapping a bit harder, with a definite beat this time. After a few more seconds, he was using two pencils to beat an all out drum solo, using some of McKay's more sensitive lab equipment as cymbals.

While mock-bowing and simulating the roar of the crowd, Sheppard felt something hit the side of the head with a dull thud. He opened his eyes to see that his actual audience was not nearly as appreciative of his impromptu drum solo as his imaginary one had been, at least judging by the fact that Rodney's half-eaten apple was now rolling around the table where it had landed after being chucked at Sheppard's head. Rubbing the spot where the apple had collided with his skull, he muttered, "Tough crowd."

"Oh, please, Colonel. That mess you call your hair would have provided sufficient cushioning for any object to just bounce right off. Or perhaps it would have just caught it and eaten it. When was the last time you fed it, anyway?"

Sheppard scowled at McKay. "Ya know, most rock stars get underwear thrown at them, not half-eaten nasty fruit." When Rodney continued to glare daggers in his general direction, Sheppard continued, "Not that I'm asking—"

"What will it take to make you go away?" McKay snapped.

To any other member of the Atlantis expedition, the alarming shade of crimson the scientist was turning would have been like a red flashing alarm to evacuate the blast radius. But to Sheppard, it was just a sign that he hadn't pushed hard enough. Offering McKay one of his most charming, butter-wouldn't-melt-in-my-mouth smiles, he said, "Ask me what my favorite fruit is."

Eyeing the colonel suspiciously, he asked, "That's it? If I ask you what your favorite fruit is, you'll go away and leave me to finish my next potential Nobel Prize winning discovery in peace?" Continuing that creepy smile, Sheppard just nodded. Knowing he would probably regret it, McKay finally replied, "Okay, fine. What is your favorite fruit?"

Slyly, Sheppard fished out the previously hidden plastic bag, and allowed McKay to see its contents. Popping a piece of the brightly colored fruit into his mouth, Sheppard grinned triumphantly. "My favorite fruit," he said, "is oranges."

oOo

Author's notes, part deux: Okay, hopefully everyone got a kick out of that, it was just something that latched onto me and wouldn't let go until I wrote it. I will now go back into hibernation and you probably won't hear from me until I finish my fic for the McWeir ficathon in October. :(

Author's notes, again: I'm surprised no one's said anything about Sheppard's taste in fruit. C'mon, didn't anyone realize he smuggled _poison_ into McKay's lab! Poor Rodney!


End file.
